I Could've Lost You
by Phantoms Little Lotte
Summary: Roger's fainting spell scares Mark into a fit of hysteria. Roger knows he can save him, but he might have to prove himself first. MarkRoger.
1. Not Going Anywhere

A/N: I had this general idea in my head for a while now. But I tweaked it a little and I realize now, it's a lot more dramatic than I originally intended. (Not to mention, SOMEHOW, it turned into slash lol. So uh...sorry, if you aren't into that kind of stuff.)

Disclaimer: (starts singing) I DON'T OWN EMOTION, I RENT! Or I'm at least renting the characters for a little while. I'll give 'em back eventually (sad sigh).

* * *

"So, for dinner, we have the option of Cap'n Crunch...again, or week old leftovers from the Life Café. What do you want?"

Mark listened carefully. No answer.

"Roger? I'm talking to you."

Still silence.

"Roger, would you fucking stop daydreaming and answer me?"

Mark listened as he heard a loud thud and nothing else.

Turning around, he saw Roger, passed out on the loft floor. Mark's eyes widened in terror.

"Shit."

---

After two days straight in the nearest hospital, the roommates entered the loft again.

"I swear, Mark, I'll be fine. Stop babying me."

"Go lay down."

"Mark, I said no more-"

"Roger, just go fucking lay down!" Mark had actually shouted at Roger. Mark. Yelling. It's something that Roger never thought would happen. Examining his roommate more closely, he saw Mark shaking.

"Mark...you okay?"

"Roger, just please...go rest." Mark's voice was small, desperate.

Roger sighed before nodding. "Fine."

Mark watched as Roger curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket closer to his frail body. Mark turned and walked into the bathroom.

Turning on the hot water (which was a luxury that they didn't have too often), he peeled off his clothes before entering the shower. Before he knew it, he was sobbing harder than he ever had in the past.

He felt himself slowly fall to the shower floor and began to cradle himself. His throat started closing slightly and it hurt to breathe, but he had to get out all the repressed pain he'd been feeling.

_I almost lost him. If I wasn't home...oh God, if I wasn't home..._

He wanted to scream. This could've been it. This could've been Roger's last day on earth.

_Scream into a pillow. What if I don't have a fucking pillow?_

Mark scanned the room and found a red towel lying on the bathroom floor. He gingerly picked it up, rolled it into a ball, pressed it to his jaw and screamed bloody murder.

Even a towel didn't help against the paper thin walls.

Mark heard Roger's footsteps race to the bathroom and the sudden pounding of Roger's fists on the door.

"Mark! Mark, what's going on!"  
Mark slowly picked himself up off the tiled floor and sighed. "Nothing, I'm fine."

The doorknob turned and Mark quickly pulled the shower curtain shut.

"Then what was that scream? You're going to tell me nothing? What, it was the wind?"

"Roger, I told you to lay down." Mark answered bitterly.

"Yeah, and I'm not listening." Roger pulled the shower curtain open, revealing a very pissed off Mark.

"Roger, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Mark, look me square in the eye and tell me you're fine. Tell me that what happened two days ago, that me collapsing, didn't affect you in any way."

Mark bit his lip and looked to the floor. Suddenly, the tears were back. The pain in his throat and the desire to scream all came back full force. He leaned against the bathroom wall and looked at his roommate, tears streaming down his slightly freckled face.

"Would you be? God-dammit, Roger, if I collapsed in front of you and almost died, would you be fine?"

Roger's face went white. He took a step closer to Mark. "I'm...I'm sorry. But God, Mark, I'm fine!" Roger stepped into the shower, lifting Mark's head to look into his eyes.

"Roger, you're getting wet."

"I don't give a fuck." Mark inhaled sharply as Roger wiped away his tears with his callused thumbs. "Please..." Roger begged, with a small laugh. "Stop crying."

Mark shook his head. "No. What if I lost you? What if I was out filming another crap film instead of home at the loft, and you just...died there, on the floor? What if, Roger? I mean, it could've-"

Roger, without warning, pushed his lips up against Mark's.

Running a hand through Mark's hair, Roger answered, "But it didn't. It could've. But it didn't. And I'm damn grateful that you were there to save me."

Mark looked into the guitarist's green eyes and laughed. "You're soaking wet."

Roger let out a small laugh as well. "Whatever. You okay?"

Mark nodded. "I think so." Mark slowly moved in and kissed him back. "Damn, I could've lost you."

Roger smiled. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Mark embraced the musician and didn't feel himself ever wanting to let go.

_I promise._

* * *

A/N: Not sure if I'll continue. For the time being, it's a one-shot. I guess if I get enough reviews, I might, or if I'm low on new inspiration. What do you think? 


	2. Sick Turn of Events

A/N: Hey...I'm back! I've actually had a lot more ideas for stuff, but I got some reviews that I kind of couldn't turn down. If this turns out shitty, blame the reviewers lol, at least I tried.

Disclaimer: Don't own Mark. Don't own Roger. Don't own RENT. Don't even own the computer I'm typing this on. (looks around) I own that cell phone! And that stick of deodorant over there! But that's pretty much it.

* * *

When Mark awoke, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Warmth.

Confused, he looked to his side. Roger, with his still damp blonde hair plastered to his face, was sleeping soundly at his side. And his arm was around Mark's waist.

It was then that Mark remembered the events of the previous night. The screaming, the tears, the embarrassment.

The fact that Mark was naked through the entire thing.

_'Mark, I've seen you naked a thousand times.'_

_'Yeah, that...what? When? I've never seen you naked!'_

_Roger smirked. 'That's because you don't have good hiding places.'_

_'Fucking stalker.'_

Mark smiled and ran a hand through his short blonde hair.

Roger began to stir and looked up at Mark drowsily.

"What time is it?"

Mark looked at his watch. "10:30."

Roger yawned. "Good, I can sleep more." With that, he fell against the pillow and closed his eyes again.

Mark smiled before leaning down to kiss Roger's forehead, to which Roger returned the grin. Getting up from the bed, Mark entered the main room in the loft. He slowly made his way to the 'kitchen' and put on a pot for tea. While waiting for the water to boil, he sat down on the couch.

Would this be his life from now on? Waking up to complete warmth with the one person he'd wanted to be with since...forever?

Thinking on it, Mark realized he could live with that.

About a half hour later, Roger emerged from the bedroom with a grin on his face. "Hey, sexy. Sleep well?"

Mark laughed. "You should know. You were there."

Roger feigned confusion. "Ohhh yeah...I get laid so often, I forget these things."

Mark smacked him. "And it seems cocky Roger is back..."

Roger giggled. "You called me cocky."

Mark prepared to smack him again when Collins opened the loft door.

"Hey bitches! How's it goin'?"

Collins stared as the two men stared at each other, at a loss for words. "We're uh...we're good."

"Never better." Roger answered.

Collins watched as Mark smiled and blushed. Roger scratched his head and averted his eyes to the floor.

"Oh, God, it's happened, hasn't it..." Collins brought a hand to his mouth.

"What, what's happened?" Mark asked concerned.

Collins smiled, leaning against the loft door. "You two slept together, didn't you?"

Roger took a step back. "Collins, you're sick!"

Collins laughed. "Whatever. But you know it'll happen eventually." He grabbed his jacket again. "Shit, I got a class in about 10 minutes. Just wanted to stop in for a friendly visit. I think I disturbed you guys more than anything..." With that, the philosopher left the building.

Mark glared daggers at Roger. "Sick? Us together, it's sick?"

"Mark, did you want it to get out? Wouldn't you like a little secrecy for the time being? Or do you want the whole world knowing we're gay?"

"You could've just fucking denied it. If I knew that I sickened you...just forget it. I'm going to go film or something."

"Mark, calm down!"

With that, Mark left the loft. Roger collapsed on the couch, hiding his head in his hands.

"Shit."

* * *

A/N: Once again, ended in a completely different way than I planned. Good? Horrible? Should I continue or just give it up right here? Your thoughts? 


	3. Chasing You

A/N: I love the feedback I'm getting here! Keeps me going! My self esteem right now is like...off the meter. I love you all immensely! Keep reviewing, I'll keep writing : )

A/N2: By the way, I have a question. Not really important, but I was just wondering about it earlier. Is it actually stated anywhere that Mark drinks tea and Roger drinks coffee? As we see in the movie, Roger drinks coffee, but I was just wondering if that was established anywhere. In every fanfic I read, that's the way it goes. Just thought it was kinda funny.

Disclaimer: I don't own. I rent. (wink) ...sorry, that was really corny. Ignore me!

* * *

Mark walked quickly down the hallway, brushing past Collins.

"Woah, man! Where's the fire?" Collins asked.

"Nowhere. I'm just going to film. I hear there's going to be a mass riot down near Times Square."

"If anyone here should know about a mass riot, the anarchist over here would. There's no mass riot. What's up?"

"Nothing, just let it go." Mark snapped, walking off angrily.

Collins took one uncertain glance at the loft door before walking off.

---

Roger grunted irritably before throwing a pillow across the loft. He really wished he hadn't said what he did.

_It's Mark's fault, really. Stupid dick misinterpreted what I said completely._

Sighing, he disregarded the thought.

_Maybe I'm the dick._

Kicking the wooden floor, he got off the couch, changed into jeans, put on shoes and quickly put on his leather jacket before leaving the loft.

_Better go find him..._

---

Mark sat inside the Life Café, filming some girl do a horrible rendition of a Stevie Nicks song.

Karaoke night. Something Mark had no desire to film. Ever.

_As long as I don't have to see Roger, I'm fine._

As if on cue, the door swung open and Roger entered, rubbing his hands together. His eyes landed on Mark and he froze completely.

Mark hurriedly got out of the chair and walked past Roger.

"Mark, please..."

"I was just leaving." Mark answered bitterly.

Roger pounded his fist on the bar counter, receiving more than a few irritated looks from the bartenders.

"Beer please. And keep them coming."

---

Later into the next morning, Mark was lying on the couch, eyes wide open when Roger finally returned home. Roger was stumbling and his eyes were bloodshot.

And he was drunk.

"Where the fuck have you been? It's 3 AM. I was this close," Mark held up his hand, fingers just centimeters apart, "From calling the cops. This fucking close! You got an excuse?"

"I was just out taking a walk..." Roger answered, giggling a little bit as he slapped Mark on the shoulder. "Since when do we have two couches?"

Mark turned his head to look at the same, old, single couch they've always had.

"Yeah, and before the walk? What were you doing then?"

"I..._might've_ had a few too many drinks."

"Yeah, a few. Again. Something could've happened to you again. Why am I always chasing you, babying you?" Mark's voice began to get louder.

"Calm down, won't ya Marky?"

"No. I'm going to bed. I don't care what the fuck you do anymore. You can stay, you can leave, just get the fuck out of my sight."

Mark marched angrily to his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

_I thought I wouldn't have to chase you anymore. _

_Guess I thought wrong.

* * *

_

A/N: It's shorter than I wanted, but I think (I hope) I ended it at a good spot. When will Roger learn? Well, tune in for the next chapter!

A/N2: I am sorry to inform you that tomorrow, school starts up again. No more winter break...so updates might not be as fast as I've been making them. I'll definitely try though.


	4. Job Applications

A/N: Ha, I just posted a like...an hour ago and I'm already writing again. Addicting. Much thanks to all the reviewers who I love like you would not believe (especially EvilEatingSanta who leaves the LONGEST reviews...just how I like 'em). And like I said, I'll try to update as frequently as I can.

Disclaimer: Don't own. I honestly get so sad when I write that.

* * *

Roger woke up on the couch, his blanket completely strewn on the loft floor. Instantly, he felt his head throbbing with pain. He had no recollection of the previous night until he saw the post-it that Mark left on the door.

"Out with Collins at the Life for lunch.

Hope you're sober.

Maybe if you grow up, you can join us."

_Sober?_

Roger gasped, the memories of the previous night immediately coming back. "Oh shit...oh shit...beer...drunk...3 AM...Oh God..."

He grabbed his jacket and left the apartment.

He was too drunk the night before to change into pajamas anyway.

---

"What do you mean, he came home at 3?"

"I mean, he came home at 3 AM, incredibly drunk, and didn't even apologize or anything."

"Drunk people never apologize, and if they do, it's never sincere."

"It's not even that, Collins, he just...he barely acknowledged the fact that he was doing something reckless. Again."

Collins put down his beer and stared at Mark. "Mark, he's been through a lot. How would you feel if Maureen dumped you?"

"Maureen did dump me."

"...oh yeah. Well, imagine that pain, only magnified like 7000 times. His girlfriend died. Left the guy with AIDS. It's bound to have some sort of affect on him, correct?"

Mark sighed. "Yes, but..."

"Give him time. He'll snap back."

_For the love of God, I hope you're right._

---

Roger finally reached the door of the Life Café and was about to walk in when something caught his eye.

A sign.

A literal sign.

**Guitarist needed for Life Café Band**

"**Ultrasound"**

**Must be out of high school**

**Inquire inside for application**

Roger gaped at the sign for a few minutes before actually speaking.

"Oh sweet Jesus, you've got to be kidding me."

Without hesitation, he ran inside and asked for an application.

---

"I don't know, Collins, I just wish he'd talk to me more. Give me more hint as to where he was half the time. Not only physically but emotionally. I wish I knew how he felt."

"That's where this song writing thing is coming from, I think. He can't express it in words alone, so he's trying in song. It's very admirable and a little romantic, I think."

"Makes sense, but still."

"Maybe you should stop babying him. That might be where the rebellion streak is coming in."

"I do not baby him!"

"Hey guys!" Roger ran up to the table, panting almost.

"Hey, why are you so out of breath?" Collins asked. Mark just averted his eyes to the table.

"I ran to get here. Collins, can I have a moment alone with Mark?"

"Sure." Collins placed a five dollar bill on the table to pay for the beer. "See you guys later."

Roger replaced Collins' place at the booth and stared at Mark.

"I...am so fucking sorry about..."

"Forget it."

Mark got up to leave, but Roger grabbed his hand. "You wanted me to grow up? Well, I'm on my way there."

With that, he slammed the application on the table.

Mark stared at it blankly. "What's that?"

"Job application. This place needs a guitarist, I need inspiration for a new song. It was like fate."

Mark was dumbfounded.

"You're really going to do this, then? You're going to go to band practice, and learn the chords, and wake up early and be responsible?"

Roger laughed. "I'm 26. It's about time I do something responsible."

Mark still looked uncertain.

"Mark, come on! I'll be doing something 'responsible' as you say, I'll have a job, I'll be earning cash, and most importantly, I'll be doing something that I love."

He leaned in and firmly kissed Mark on the lips. "And I'll be doing it for us. Face it, we both need cash."

Mark laughed. "Roger, we're in public."

"I don't give a fuck." He replied, before leaning in for another kiss.

Yet, no matter how sincere Roger sounded, Mark still had his doubts.

* * *

A/N: I was going INSANE. I got this idea and I wanted to write it but my brother had his friend's over and they were on the computer. I was literally pacing my bedroom waiting for them to leave. Crazy college kids...anywho, I kinda liked this chapter. Roger being all responsible and all. Like? Dislike? Loathe? Despise? Hate? ...love perhaps? Review, please! And I'll love you forever.

A/N2: I'm REALLY sorry about the lack of Mark and Roger fluffiness and all that, but there really hasn't been an opportunity for it thus far. I'll squeeze more in, I promise!


	5. Under the Influence

A/N: After all the criticism I received on the last few chapters, I realized I need to step it up a bit! Believe me...got a LOT of criticism. I wrote the first half of this chapter in my room before I saw the reviews, so I might leave it as is or change it. Not sure yet. Don't want to change it too much because, hello, it wouldn't be me anymore, but I might just add more detail or any of the other things mentioned.

Disclaimer: Don't own. REALLY wish I did, though...

* * *

**Three Weeks Later**

"Roger, wake _up_!" Mark shoved the man so hard that Roger almost fell off the bed.

With a grunt, Roger answered. "Too early..."

"Work, Rog. You have-to go-to work!" With every emphasis, he pulled one of the musician's legs, trying as hard as he could to get him out of the bed. Nothing prevailed.

Two weeks ago, Roger had gotten the call to come in for a job interview. Liking what they saw, a week after that, they called Roger in for an audition. Roger played one of the Well Hungarian's songs, 'Melting Plastic'. To Mark's surprise, the band's manager was instantly impressed and gave the job to Roger on the spot. Roger ran home, kissing Mark profusely and immediately began to practice the chords.

Yet no matter what Mark saw, he wasn't convinced that Roger could live as a working man, even if it was in the music business.

_"Mark, just fucking trust me on this! I know I can do it!" Roger was grinning and Mark knew that he had faith in himself._

_Why couldn't he have faith too?_

_"Okay...I believe you."_

"Roger I swear, if you aren't up in three..."

"Ugh..."

"Two."

"..."

"One." With that, Mark placed a tape recorder next to Roger's ear on the bed and pressed play.

_Roger, this is your mother speaking!_

Roger jumped out of the bed, yelping almost.

_If you don't get out of that bed, I swear, I will come over there and make you get out myself!_

Roger looked up at Mark, sweating almost and wide eyed.

"What the fuck was that!"

Mark smiled slyly. "Your mother called. I told her you got a job and asked her to leave that as a message. I knew this whole, 'rebellious, non-morning person' thing would come up. What, you think I'm stupid?"

"Bastard..."

"Hey," Mark raised his hands in self defense. "You're the one who wanted to be more responsible."

Roger gave a little grunt in agreement before stepping closer to his blonde roommate and now blonde lover. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, lifting his head to look into his eyes.

"But I did it for you." With that, he pulled Mark into a closer embrace and kissed him delicately yet passionately on the lips. Mark returned the passion, running his tongue over Roger's lips before sliding his own tongue into Roger's mouth. Roger moaned, begging for more, but Mark pulled away.

"Us. You did it for us."

Roger shrugged. "But you matter more."

Mark smiled. "Get dressed. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back, with cash preferably."

"You've never been in a band, have you?" Roger eyed Mark suspiciously. "I don't get paid for band practice."

"Eh, you're sexy, you're bound to get a tip from one person or another." Roger grabbed a shirt and went to whip Mark with it before Mark went running from the room, laughing.

---

"Hey guys, this is Roger." The band 'leader' announced before introducing Roger to the others. His name was James, the drummer's name was Jon and the bassist's name was Chris. None of them gave him a real warm welcome, leading Roger to believe that they'd been through several guitarists in the past.

_What'll become of me?_

James explained to him what the usual routine was. They go out, they play, they get tips. The Life Café would pay them as well, but that was their own personal cash. Tips were to be split up amongst the members of the band. If it was uneven, they did a rotation as to who the extra would be given to. Tuesday, it would go to Chris, Wednesday, James, Thursday, Jon and Friday, to Roger. Roger decided he liked the teamwork aspect of it all, but still felt a little uncomfortable with the other's staring at him, most likely judging him.

When asking James about it, the brown haired man seemed nonchalant. "Don't worry about it. Nothing against you personally. It'll just take them a while to warm up to you and to what you have to offer."

Roger smiled and nodded hesitantly.

_What if I don't have anything to offer?_

They practiced a few songs, which Roger liked but deep down, had a desire to change them in some form or another.

They were good, he supposed. They could be better though.

But after making one creative suggestion, Chris asked him if he thought he was better than them and continued to ask what gave him the right to change anything after being in the band for not even a day.

Roger closed his mouth after that and just continued to play, no matter how bad anything sounded to him.

_Don't open your mouth, Davis. You lose this job, you might as well say goodbye to Mark._

---

"Good practice guys. Nice job, Roger." James complimented, smiling at the blonde rocker.

"Thanks."

James pulled Roger close to whisper in his ear. "Don't mind Chris. He can be a little bit of an ass from time to time. But he's talented. So we can't afford to lose him."

Roger nodded before packing up his things. Walking out the door with his guitar firmly in his hand, he stopped before exiting completely, seeing something he hadn't seen in a while.

And what he hoped he'd never see again.

Chris looked up at him, needle in his arm. He smiled. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." Roger looked to the floor and began to walk off again before Chris spoke. "It's just a little smack. How about it? Wanna shoot up?" Chris slid the needle out of his arm and waved it in front of Roger.

_Shit._

"No thanks man, I'm clean now."

Chris laughed. "Pussy."

_You're doing this for Mark, no one else._

He left the stage, disregarding everything that happened in the past two minutes.

_Mark better love me for this.

* * *

_

A/N: Reviews make me happy...you know what to do. Thanks again to all the reviewers I have, I love you guys immensely. I took a lot of the criticism into consideration and I think it helped me with this chapter. At least I hope it did...


	6. Inspiration

A/N: I know, it's taking me longer to update. School can do that to you. With chemistry quizzes and history projects and psychology papers and learning about transcendentalism in English...lots going on. But I've been concentrating on this story like 24/7, so there's no way that I'm giving it up. BEFORE I FORGET because I was going to say this last time but I completely forgot and a lot of people have been asking: This is basically post-April, pre-Mimi (if there's Mimi at all with this story). Just so you know. Mimi isn't exactly a factor.

A/N2: A few people have also been asking about why Roger fainted to begin with. It was just an affect of the AIDS. (Got the idea from a scene in Angels in America where Prior, also AIDS infected, passed out). It's nothing more than the AIDS.

Disclaimer: Me no own-y, you no sue-y.

* * *

Roger walked home from the Life Café, a little disturbed and confused.

Tempted, even.

_Don't you dare. _He thought, practically screaming at himself in his head. _You're clean now. It took you ages to get that way and Mark was the only one who would help you get that way. Don't go fucking it up now. You owe this to him._

He pulled his jacket closer to his body. It was cold. Colder than he remembered. It sort of hurt to breathe in this weather. Almost as if when he inhaled, he brought in ice crystals with the air.

Attacking him. That's what this disease did to him.

_You have Mark to help you through this. _

_It seems as if that's all he does._

_Help me._

_And all I do is hurt him._

With that last thought in mind, haunting him, teasing him, he ran home.

---

Mark sat on the couch, fiddling around with his camera. He felt uninspired. He had nothing to film. At all. For the first time in what felt like...

Forever.

He toyed with the idea of leaving the loft for a little bit, just to film something creative and then come back, but something held him back.

_What's holding you back, Cohen? Nothing's ever held you back before..._

His answer came when Roger came bolting through the door, gasping for breath. Roger tried to speak, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He shook his head rapidly and tried again, but just fell to the ground, trying desperately to catch his breath.

That was the thing that Mark noticed about Roger ever since he'd been infected with AIDS. Roger used to be able to outrun Mark at any given time, but since the infection, even Roger in top physical condition found himself worsening in shape. Sometimes even a flight of stairs left him breathless.

Mark ran over to the man and embraced him.

"Roger! Talk to me! Oh my God, are you hurt?"

Roger shook his head and opened his mouth. "One of the band members...he's um...help me up, Mark, would you?"

Mark nodded slowly before grabbing Roger's arm. He led the musician to the couch and helped him sit down.

"Thanks. I um...I guess I'll start at the beginning. I met the band and it was a group of really talented guys and I liked them all until I met one. His name was Chris.

"And for some reason, he has this grudge against me. I don't know, he's just bitter towards me. Maybe I'm paranoid, but for whatever reason, I just don't feel comfortable around him."

Mark rubbed Roger's back. "That's completely normal, Roger. I feel like that all the time, even if I just get a glance from some stranger on the street. This is New York. Not exactly the state of comfort."

Roger closed his eyes and shook his head.

"There's more. Not sure how to say this or even if I want to...Chris offered me smack."

Mark instantly jumped up from the couch.

"He _what?_"

"He offered me smack." Roger looked up and met Mark's eyes, glaring at him.

"You fucking bastard. You took it didn't you?" Mark began to scream, his face turning red. "How could you do this to me!"

In a small voice, Roger replied, "I didn't take any. I couldn't." His voice rose a little bit. "I thought of you and what you did for me and how you stuck by me every inch of the way and never left my side, no matter how irritable I got or violent I got or how much I yelled at you and did these horrible things.

"You were there for me Mark. Everyone else left me behind. April went and...you know and even my parents refused to acknowledge that I even had a problem. But you-"

He looked away. "You never left." On the word 'left', Roger's voice cracked and it was then that Mark realized he was crying.

Roger never cried. If anything, it was Mark, alongside Roger, crying at how messed up his friend was. How screwed up his life had become and how he let the media control his life, when it told him how drugs were cool and how doing them and constantly having sex would leave him feeling pretty cool as well. But those were lies. And all they left Roger with was AIDS.

And Mark cried over it. A lot. He wasn't afraid to let Roger see how he felt.

Roger, on the other hand, felt the need to repress his feelings. He held them back all the time and isolated himself.

Seeing Roger cry was new and foreign...scary almost. But in a way, it was the most stimulating and invigorating thing that Mark had ever seen.

He found his inspiration. What he longed to film. His reason for not leaving the loft.

Quietly and slowly, he leaned over and grabbed his camera. He turned it on and faced it towards Roger, who looked up, eyes red, puffy and flooded with tears.

And suddenly, shocking Mark and even himself, he smiled. "You never left."

* * *

A/N: Sappy chapter, I know. But I liked it nonetheless. What did you guys think? 


	7. Stranger

A/N: You guys are all incredibly awesome. And I am a horrible person because I haven't updated in forever. So I give you every right to pelt me with fruit. Okay! New chappie! And because we all miss him, we're focusing on Mark. Which is _incredibly_ abnormal for me because I am totally a Roger fan all the way, no doubt about it. But I realized there have got to be some Mark fans reading this, so this is dedicated to you!

A/N2: It'll probably be REALLY short. It's just a set up for the next chapter. Most of my chapters are incredibly short and I apologize for that. It's just the way I write though. I figure that I'd rather have short, satisfying chapters as opposed to long, boring, frivolous ones. So...there's that.

* * *

Long after Roger had fallen asleep, his tears dried onto his pale cheeks, Mark was still awake, staring at the man.

He wasn't so sure about life anymore. He appreciated everything Roger was doing...getting a job, being more responsible, caring about others instead of himself for once, but...

It wasn't Roger. It wasn't the man that for so long, Mark had watched and admired and...

_Loved._

Mark remembered reading somewhere that the human heart is terribly flawed. It was now that he realized how true those words had become. Mark had loved Roger so much that it hurt, but now that Roger had changed...

He sighed before pounding his fist into the chair.

Roger was a stranger. A complete stranger and Mark was unsure if he could love a stranger.

He wanted the old Roger back...the lazy, selfish, arrogant, cranky one that he learned to love. That was the man he fell in love with. Not some responsible working gentleman.

To most, it wouldn't sound like the healthiest (or most normal) of relationships. But Mark held it dear to his heart.

He wasn't certain if he could live without it. Roger was his air, his food, his warmth, his shelter. But this new man that lived with him was just...

It wasn't Roger. Enough said. It had taken Mark most of his adult life to come to terms that he loved Roger. It wasn't easy for him (most likely for anyone) to admit their homosexuality.

But for some reason, the fact that he loved Roger made his sexuality easier to deal with. Roger was worth it.

_Not so much anymore._

Mark shook his head, trying to erase the thought from his mind as if his head was an etch-a-sketch.

_Poetic, Mark...pathetic..._

Mark thought hard, thinking about a plan that might get the old Roger back, the one he fell in love with.

_What if he never comes back? What if he's changed forever?_

_...change..._

Mark smiled. In fact, he started to laugh. An idea came to him that was just too perfect and easy to pass up.

_Time to play a little game.

* * *

_

A/N: Told you. Really short. Hopefully not too short. Like I said, it was a set up. But #1: I'm satisfied with it and #2: I wanted you all to know that I'm still alive. Not dead, as many of you may have assumed. It's funny how I update when I have 6 (sometimes 8 with choir) hours of school, yet when I'm doing absolutely nothing on the weekends, I don't write at all. ANYWHO. Hope this chapter made ya happy!


	8. Because You Can't Be Reckless

A/N: I KNOW, I'm a terrible person. I really, really am. I'll try to update today...but I can't guarantee it. I have a dress up party to go to and guess who's going as Mimi? Yes...really bad idea lol. Because it snowed last night...great timing, I have a cold, and I'll be wearing a short skirt and fishnet stockings.SNEEZE! sigh...Oh well, I'll make the best of it. I'm even bringing a candle lol. AND if I can find it, I'm trying to find a little pill box to put M&Ms or something in as my AZT. I think I got way too excited about this lol.

A/N2: Anyone hear that version of One Song Glory that Adam sang live at Joe's Pub? It's incredible! I've been talking about it non stop to a fellow Adam fan, and even she, whenever I bring it up, just sighs and walks away lol. But it is really good.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mark or Roger or Anthony Rapp or Adam Pascal...unfortunately...that saddens me so much...also, in the last chapter, I wrote something about the human heart being flawed. Got that from a book by Jonathan Ames, My Less Than Secret Life. It's incredible, GO READ IT!

* * *

After another stressful day at band practice, Roger finally arrived home at the loft. Whether is was Chris offering him more smack, which he uncertainly turned away, or getting chords wrong, or the pain in his out of shape fingers, it just wasn't a good practice.

All Roger wanted to do was come home to Mark. His beautiful, constant, smiling Mark.

When he did come home, however, Mark wasn't there.

Not the real Mark, anyway.

Roger stared at the blonde filmmaker, mouth agape, dropping his guitar case on the wooden floor with a loud thud. Mark was in plaid PJ pants...HIS plaid PJ pants...a wife beater, hair all gelled up, and worst of all, his camera just lying on the floor...with what looked like film hanging out.

"Mark...what the fuck is this?"

Mark looked up with a smile. It was then that Roger noticed Mark's glasses were gone too. "I've decided for a change. I figure," He got off the couch and walked over to Roger, a smirk plastered on his face, "I'm young, we've been getting by so far, why not get a little reckless?"

Roger backed away. "Because it's idiotic! Because we can't afford to be reckless! Because...because you can't be reckless!"

Mark laughed. "What? What do you mean, I can't be reckless?"

"You're supposed to be the responsible one. You're supposed to take care of me. You're supposed to watch after me and continuously nag me to take my AZT! Where'd that Mark go!"

Mark walked away, into his bedroom. "That Mark's gone. Get used to it." Mark slammed the bedroom door, making the entire loft rattle.

But Roger wouldn't let him get off that easily.

"Mark, open the damn door!" He yelled, pounding his fists on the door. After a few minutes, Mark finally did open the door.

Looking at this new Mark, Roger found himself speechless. This wasn't Mark. This couldn't be Mark. After all the years that he knew the man, Mark never did nor wanted to look or act like this. Put up this tough front. Curse Roger off. Be a jackass.

"Why are you doing this?" Roger asked desperately. "Why are you changing? Don't you realize that it's the old Mark I fell in love with? The old Mark that made me smile and made me laugh and kept me alive? Where'd that Mark go?"

Mark turned his head. Roger wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a tear slide down Mark's pale cheek.

"Why are you doing this?" Mark retaliated. "What are you trying to prove?"

Roger became clearly confused. "...what? I thought you wanted me to be..."

"I did...I thought I did. But seeing you responsible and all that crap...it wasn't you. You weren't meant to be responsible." Roger began to laugh. "I mean it. I'm supposed to take care of you."

"Mark, I need the job. We need the money."

"I know but...I'm not used to it. You taking care of the two of us. I don't like it. It's not you. It's not the Roger I fell in love with. I couldn't live with that Roger. I couldn't love that Roger. I know, I would get angry at you and tell you to grow up...but I think, through it all, I loved that deep down. The fact that I was more responsible than you. I would look at what we had together, our future, and the fact that I'd take care of you for the rest of your life was pure bliss for me."

Roger stared at Mark before sighing. "You're sure? You're positive? You want the old me back...the one who slept until 3 PM and ate all the food and never changed out of his pajamas and the one who occasionally would flush the toilet when you took a shower?"

"I think I...wait a minute, that was you? I thought that was Maureen!"

"Mark, just answer the damn question."

"Yes! I want that Roger back! Sans the toilet flushing thing."

Roger smiled and nodded. "Fine. I guess I'll quit the band then..."

Mark cocked his head. "I thought you loved the band?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? I hated them! That one guy offering me drugs and the music was awful and not to mention, my fingers are so out of shape, I thought they were bleeding when I pressed them against the strings. Quitting the band is definitely a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Mark laughed before grabbing Roger and kissing him. "So...I can have my old Roger back?"

"If that's what you want."

Mark nodded. "It's definitely what I want."

"Okay. I'll come back to you."

Mark smiled before looking down at himself. "I'll go change. I look ridiculous."

"Actually you look kind of hot..."

"You're kidding, right...?"

Roger laughed before pinning Mark to the bed, closing the door behind them.

* * *

A/N: NOT DONE YET! Got one more chappie on the way. So...yeah! Hope you enjoyed! 


	9. Envied

A/N: You have every right...every right to beat me for taking so long. School is evil. With projects and tests and midterms and homework and reading and AHH...it's insane. Not a day has gone by where I haven't thought of this story though. And I'm here!

A/N2: Saw RENT on B'way a week ago...Will Chase (although not as good as Adam, duh) has one incredibly sexy voice...his One Song Glory was GORGEOUS. If you have a chance, go see him because he's unbelievable.

A/N3: I wrote a few one shots over the past few days and both haven't gotten many reviews. Maybe two each. Made me sad. If you get a chance, I would love you if you read them...por favor?

Disclaimer: This will be my last time in this fic to do this...so I get to be cheesy! I don't own emotion...I RENT! Ahh, that felt good...also, I don't own the song, Adam Pascal does.

* * *

Mark woke up fairly early the next morning, not used to the bed being as cold and empty as it was. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Roger wasn't lying next to him.

_Funny..._

_He fell asleep here..._

He got up and scurried out of the bedroom to find his roommate.

---previous night---

"I don't feel good."

Mark looked at Roger, eyes wide. "What, what's wrong? Stomach or throat, what?" Anything that went wrong for Roger could be a possible, maybe certain death sentence.

"No, I don't mean physical. I mean...there was a certain pride that went into working. I hated working. I hated the people I worked with. I hated how my body couldn't make the music that was floating around in my mind.

"But at the end of the day, I was closer to success. I was closer to a better life...for us. I was closer to being more responsible. To being an adult. It was a good feeling...scary, but good. I was closer to impressing you, to being all that you wanted me to be."

Roger's face turned to one of pure disgust. "Shit, that sounded corny. Never mind."

Mark shook his head. "No. Roger, God...since when do you have to impress me?"

Roger shrugged, looking away from the other man. "You've always been grounded and I've always been the screw up. The junkie. The irresponsible loser. It got old. I just wanted proof, not only for me, but for you that I could be better than that. I could be something great, something big." Roger let out a deflated laugh. "Now look at me. I can't even hold a job for more than what, a week?"

"You gave it up because I asked you to. Not because you couldn't handle it. Not because you were lazy. Not because you were a failure. Because I asked."

"Yeah, that's part of the reason." Roger looked up into Mark's blue eyes. "Part of it was also because I didn't like it. I just wish I could do something great, something amazing, something people will envy. What do I do that people envy? Absolutely nothing."

Mark laid a hand across the older man's face. "You love. You love music, you loved April, you love Mimi..." Mark leaned up and kissed him. "I'd like to think that you love me."

Roger looked at him, shocked. "How could you even question that?"

"See?" Mark replied, proving his point. "You love. You care. You sympathize, you empathize, you _feel_. And in New York, that's something that I think everyone envies."

Mark gave him one last kiss before falling asleep. Roger, however, grabbed a notebook and pen and didn't fall asleep until hours later.

---

Opening the door that led into their 'living room', Mark paused as he saw Roger sitting on the couch, wrapped around his beloved guitar, playing a few chords.

Chords that actually sounded good together.

"Roger...I thought you quit the band."

Roger looked up at him and smiled. "I did. Sit down." Roger got up, leaving Mark plenty of room on the couch.

"Last night, after you fell asleep, I thought about it. About your faith in me and about how I love and about how I want to do something great. And...as cheesy as this sounds, you inspired me. I grabbed some paper and started writing and...well, this was the result."

Roger began to play, and Mark heard the same chords that he heard before. Roger closed his eyes, feeling the music. Mark loved that about him...once he got into it, he would close his eyes, almost forgetting the rest of the world was there. He was in his own world.

"It's so cold, let's take flight  
Well, we won't need a net, hold on tight  
A new ride is unveiled, and we don't need to try  
So there's no way to fail

A desperate look in our eyes, holding on to one another  
Holding on for all our lives, just letting go to discover

It's okay to realize  
Being born into nothing and no one and nowhere, it's all a surprise

The desperate look in our eyes, holding on to one another  
Holding on for all our lives, just letting go to discover  
That love don't need a reason  
And love don't need a rhyme  
I'm standing here pleading  
And you just cover your eyes"

Roger repeated a few verses before ending the song. Opening his eyes, he saw Mark's were filled with tears.

He got off the couch and embraced Roger. "That was beautiful." He pulled away to look into Roger's emerald green eyes. "You did it. You did something great...something that will be envied."

Roger smiled. "I did it for you."

"And that's what people will envy."

* * *

A/N: DONE! Finally...took me long enough. Wasn't really a fan of the ending but I had no clue how to end it and I wanted to get it up like...now? So...like? Hate? Remember, I'd love you if you went to read my newer one shots...por favor? 


End file.
